


Goodyear

by hangonsilvergirl



Series: The Best Jokes Are Bad Ones [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Jokes, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:29:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2636378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangonsilvergirl/pseuds/hangonsilvergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If Ed smiled any wider, or put anymore shit-eating self-satisfaction behind it, he felt like his face might crack in half.</i>
</p><p>***</p><p>A glimpse into the lives after high school of a pair of Doctor-Who-discussing dorks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodyear

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally a Tumblr prompt](http://hangonsilvergirl.tumblr.com/post/102856203004/edward-and-winry-talking-about-the-pros-and-cons-of).

Ed was sprawled on the narrow bed on Winry’s side of the dorm, shaggy blond hair splayed against her floral printed pillows, a look of deep concentration on his face. He was naked but for the sheet strewn across his middle—also floral, matching the pillows—bare foot sticking out the end, an iPad propped against his knee, earbuds in his ears. Winry was sitting at her desk wrapped in her comforter, working on homework, mindless pop music and static filtering through her shitty desktop speakers. Her roommate was home visiting her parents for the weekend. Rarely did Ed and Winry have the opportunity for much more than a few hours of uninterrupted time to themselves, and so were taking full advantage of Elisha’s three-day absence; it was Saturday now, mid-afternoon, and the only time either of them had put on pants since waking up had been to drift downstairs for a late breakfast. Morning sex, food, and afternoon sex coloured the day thus far, and while Winry had finally stopped procrastinating her English essay and was working steadily—she wanted to go out tonight at least  _some_ what guilt-free; she still had physics after all—Ed was re-watching the reboot of  _Doctor Who_. He only had one early class on Fridays, and so had gotten all of his own homework done before meeting up with her for dinner the night before. Lucky jerk.

Winry glanced over at him periodically, unable to keep a pleased sort of smile off of her face. Edward’s expression, however, seemed to be getting grumpier and grumpier every time she looked at him, so that, at the fourth or fifth instance, she kicked him in the foot.  
  
He looked up startled, pulling the buds out of his ears. “What?”  
  
"You look like an old man getting ready to yell at kids for trampling on his grass," she said, quirking an eyebrow and swiveling her chair to face him. "I thought you usually skipped the episodes that made you murderous?"  
  
Ed rolled his eyes and shifted upward a bit. “Yeah for the earlier stuff. But if I did that for Matt Smith I’d hardly watch any of him.” Winry snorted. “Well it’s true,” Ed continued with a shrug. “I don’t understand how, with the pure lack of confines involved in writing science fiction, continuity or explanations are such an issue for Moffat.”  
  
"What episode are you watching?"  
  
” _A Good Man Goes to War_.”

"Aw, that one isn’t so terrible; that’s probably one of the better 11th Doctor episodes."  
  
Ed scrunched up his nose. “It’s not the episode itself, necessarily, it’s the continuity. Like. Why the hell is Rory wearing his Centurion armor? Because there’s no real reason to, if he only had it for weird-ass roleplay sex with Amy. How useful is it  _really_  going to be in a epic space battle?”  
  
"The Doctor probably thought it made him look more foreboding. I mean, really, what’s intimidating about Rory?" Winry pulled her legs up to be crossed in her seat, tugging the comforter a little more tightly around her.  
  
"Yeah, I guess, but that’s just minor anyway. What  _really_  pisses me off is the whole River Song thing.”  
  
"She couldn’t cross her own timeline."

"Right, I get why she couldn’t fight, but why in flying fuck wouldn’t she have told the Doctor by now who she was? His death is a fixed point sure, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have the ability to alter everything leading up to it; I mean, Jesus, they could’ve saved Melody fourteen and a half times over by now. Even the Doctor on his own,  _without_  telling Amy and Rory. And why the hell did he wait so long to point out that Amy was a melt-y avatar?”

"Riiiiight, but—"

"Just seems a little too self-serving. It makes the Doctor and River look like the biggest kind of dicks. All this time they’re carrying out all these dates out of order and having adventures or seeing fucking Stevie Wonder, but she can’t be bothered to say ‘Oh, by the by, I’m Amy’s daughter. Think we can fix up my traumatic, terrible childhood?’"

Winry smirked slightly and shook her head. “It is what it is now, I guess.”  
  
Ed frowned. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

It was Winry’s turn to roll her eyes. “Then don’t watch it, seriously. Skip ahead. Or go back and watch Tennant again. God knows you love him.”

“ _That’s_  because the 10th Doctor is nothing short of amazing, start to finish. Plus there’s Rose and Donna, and  _Captain Jack_ , and give me  _Martha_ over pretty much  _any_ part of season six.”

"Drama queen."

"You’ve clearly never heard yourself wax poetic about Peter Capaldi."

Winry shot him a look. “He’s  _excellent_  and I won’t hear otherwise, from you or anybody.”  
  
Ed laughed. “Down girl. Twelve is alright. I’ve got nothing against him. He’s just… he’s no Ten. No Nine, for that matter, that poor, hugely underrated, proper asshole.”

"You know, I wonder sometimes if you’re not  _too_  invested.”

"Says the girl who’s watched  _Torchwood_  through twice.”

Winry kicked him in the foot again.

"Campiest camp show to ever be campy," Ed continued, starting to grin.

"I see through you, you know," Winry countered, though she did kick him once more against her better judgement. "You’re baiting me to get me to abandon my homework, aren’t you? You’re a terrible influence."

"Oh,  _whatever_. You’ve been working away for—” Ed glanced at his watch “—an hour and a half. Time for a study break, right? Besides, you’re totally looking a gift horse in the mouth, here. I mean, when’ll be the next time we have a room completely and totally to ourselves with  _no_  threat of interruption? Before you know it we’ll be back to rutting around in the bushes again, like we had to do all fucking summer.” He smiled slyly.

Winry opened her mouth in shock and wished she had a wrench on hand to pitch square between her smarmy boyfriend’s eyes. “ _Edward_!” she exclaimed, which made him cackle. “You  _jerk._ We do not and have not rutted  _anywhere_! We might’ve had to… be  _intimate_  in places other than a bed, but that doesn’t make it  _rutting_ , for goodness sake!”

"What, we  _made love_  in a hayloft?” Ed asked with mock innocence, knowing perfectly well what he was in for if Winry snapped. He was in hook, line, and sinker though, and didn’t care anyway, otherwise he wouldn’t have baited her in the first place. “Now, maybe my memory of that is a little foggy, but I  _don’t_  think you were asking me ‘make love harder, Ed!’… I think it was more like—”

"Don’t you dare!"

"What, repeat you?"

Winry threw her notebook at him. Ed was grinning like an idiot.

"I hate you." Winry was blushing.

"Nah," Ed said, and set the iPad and ear buds on the nightstand beside the bed. "I don’t think that you do. C’mere."

“ _Ed-ward_ ,” she whined, but she already sounded defeated. Ed knew he’d won this one. “I need to get this done.”

"You still have lots of time," he answered. "C’mon. Seriously. Bed. Naked me, naked you. Gift horse." He was sitting fully upright, and gestured to himself. "You really going to turn down  _all this_?” She pouted. He pulled out his guaranteed trump card:  _A shitty joke_. ”Hey, Win. What d’you do with 365 used rubbers?”

"Oh my God, Edward."

If Ed smiled any wider, or put anymore shit-eating self-satisfaction behind it, he felt like his face might crack in half. “ _C’moooooooon_. Humor me.”

Winry sighed. “ _Fine_. I dunno, Ed. What?”

"Melt them down, make a tire, and call it a Goodyear."

Winry looked at him like he had six heads for all of a  _split_  second. Then she started laughing. Uncontrollably. Snorts and breathless giggles, her cheeks going red. Then as soon as they picked up real momentum they were subsiding, and she was ditching her blanket, marching over to him in full, glorious nakedness and looking at him like he was probably the best, dumbest thing in the world. He scooched over closer to the wall.

"You  _idiot_ ,” she said with affection, no more trace of irritation, and slid under the sheet beside him.


End file.
